omrumsworld

Archive for the category “PROSES”

DIALOGUE WITH THE WOMAN-IN-THE-MIRROR (Sep 17, 2019)

Woman in-the-mirror: What do you see?

Woman: Of course, my face! What else could it be? My face as it has always been.

Woman in-the-mirror: Look carefully. Look and examine from top to bottom. Tell me what you see.

Woman: Okay, if that’s what you ask for. Let me start with my hair. Its color has faded a little. Root dyeing won’t be enough. Hair dye doesn’t last as it used to. Either they are of poor quality or it is more difficult to cover the white hair. I think the latter is true. Its style is as it has always been. I have it cut exactly the same. This is what looks the best on me. (The woman is quiet)…I may have a different haircut next time. I may even change its color, why not? A layered cut might look good. I can have a thin piece of the hair in front dyed into purple or duck head green. Let it wash away fast. I can go to the hairdresser more frequently just to have them dyed. Yes, the idea of changing my hair is very appealing. Thank you.

Woman in-the-mirror: Now look at your forehead. And your cheeks.

Woman: I see no problem in my forehead. It hasn’t got wrinkled because I don’t use my mimics much. It will be nice though if I reshape my eyebrows a little. My cheeks are also fine except for a few scars of old pimples or acnes. I cover them with foundation crème.

Woman in-the-mirror: What about your lips?

Woman: My lips have always been pale. This is why I don’t step out without lipstick on. The indents on both sides of my lips have become deeper, yet I don’t what to have botox or filling there. Let them be so. I think my lips are getting thinner. Let me check my youth photos. Of course, how thin they have become! It seems that is because of ageing. I am afraid they will be two thin lines when I am eighty years old. Nah, they are okay now. Let me not have them swollen as bit by a bee.

Woman in-the-mirror: Your neck?

Woman: You shouldn’t have asked about my neck. That is my soft spot. Can’t you see the jowl right here? (The woman moves the sagging skin beneath her chin with her fingertips)Look how it is! I should have it operated as soon as possible, should have that piece of skin cut and removed. Let me ask Safiye her doc’s name. The man made her look at least twenty years younger. No flaw on her face. But poor Nermin couldn’t be better after she had her eye bags removed. She now has the look of a dead fish. The bottom eyelids retract down. And her surgeon was a very famous one. Believe me, I can’t look into her face while talking to her because she will notice I am looking at her retracted eyelids. I should learn who Safiye’s doctor was urgently.

Woman in-the-mirror: Only your eyes are left now. Come on. Look at them.

Woman: I know my upper eyelids are sagging. I am well aware of it. Please don’t touch me on the raw.

Woman in-the-mirror: Look right into your eyes, nowhere else.

Woman: I don’t have any other flaws. Don’t insist.

Woman in-the-mirror: I am not looking for flaws. All I ask is to look INTO ME.

 

My hair entangled with seaweed

Hosting a crab

My skin is grey-white

A hole in my right cheek

Through which my teeth appear

My lips are closed tightly

The words consumed long ago

My eyes

The most horrific part of my face

Two pitch black holes

Deeper than the night

 

Woman: When did the storm cease? I haven’t noticed.

How black is the sea at night!

 

Woman in-the-mirror: The moon is about to rise

Phosphorescence will dance playfully on the surface

Whether we see them or not

This is what has happened

This is what will always happen

 

Let your soul rest now

AYNADAKİ KADINLA KONUŞMALAR (17 Eylül 2019)

Aynadaki Kadın: Ne görüyorsun?

Kadın: Kendi yüzümü elbette. Başka ne olabilir ki? Her zamanki gibi.

Aynadaki Kadın: İyi Bak. Önce tepeden tırnağa incele. Gördüklerini anlat bana birer birer.

Kadın: Peki, madem öyle istiyorsun. Saçlarımla başlayayım. Rengi biraz açılmış. Dip boya yetmez. Boya eskisi kadar uzun dayanmıyor. Ya kalitesi bozuldu ya da beyazları kapatmak daha güç. Sanırım ikincisi. Şekli yıllardır alışık olduğum gibi. Hep aynı kestiririm. Bana en çok yakışanı bu boy. (Kadın susar)… Bir dahaki sefere daha farklı kestirebilirim. Hatta rengini bile değiştirebilirim, neden olmasın? Şöyle katlı bir kesim bana yakışabilir. Önlere de renk attırırım. Örneğin mor. Belki de ördek başı yeşil. Varsın boya çabuk aksın. Sık sık giderim kuaföre, ne olacak ki. Evet, saçımı değiştirme fikri bana hayli çekici geliyor. Teşekkür ederim.

Aynadaki Kadın: Şimdi alnına bak. Ve yanaklarına.

Kadın: Alnımda bir sorun yok. Mimiklerimi pek kullanmadığımdan kırışmadı. Kaşlarımı biraz düzeltsem fena olmayacak. Yanaklarımda iyi. Eskinin birkaç sivilce veya akne izi dışında. Onu da fondötenle kapatıyorum.

Aynadaki Kadın: Ya dudakların?

Kadın: Dudaklarım kendimi bildim bileli renksiz. Bu yüzden ruj sürmeden adımımı atmam dışarı. Her iki kenarda izler derinleşmiş. Botoks veya dolgu yaptırmak istemiyorum. Öyle kalsın. Dudaklarım inceliyor gibi geldi. Dur, gençlik resimlerime bir bakayım. Tabii ya, ne kadar da incelmiş! Demek ilerleyen yaşla böyle oluyor. Korkarım seksenimde ince birer çizgi gibi kalacak. Şimdilik idare eder. Arı sokmuş gibi şişirtmeyelim.

Aynadaki Kadın: Boynun?

Kadın: Boynumu sormayacaktın. Yumuşak karnım. Gıdım sarktı, görmüyor musun? (Kadın parmak uçlarıyla çenesinin altındaki gevşek deriyi sağa-sola hareket ettirir)Bak, ne halde! Kesin en kısa zamanda ameliyat ettirmeliyim. Beni yaşlı gösteren tek yer boynum. Neyse ki sadece gıdı sorunum var. O deri parçasını kesip aldırmalı. Safiye’ye sorayım doktorunun adını. Adam kadını en az 20 yaş gençleştirdi. Hiçbir hata yok yüzünde. Zavallı Nermin göz altı torbalarını aldırdıktan sonra iflah olmadı. Ölü balık bakışlı. Alt göz kapakları fena halde aşağıya çekiyor. Üstelik cerrah pek bir meşhurmuş. Vallahi konuşurken kızın yüzüne bakamıyorum fark edecek diye. Safiye’nin doktorunu acilen öğreneyim.

Aynadaki Kadın: Geriye gözlerin kaldı. Haydi, bak bakalım.

Kadın: Göz kapaklarım düşüyor. Bunun farkındayım. Lütfen yaramı deşme.

Aynadaki Kadın: Gözlerinin ta içine bak. Başka yere değil.
Kadın: Başka sorunum yok, üsteleme.

Aynadaki Kadın: Sorun aramıyorum ki. Sadece BANA bakmanı istiyorum.

 

Saçlarım yosunlara dolaşmış, bir yengece ev sahipliği yapıyor.

Cildim gri-beyaz

Sağ yanağımın yerine bir boşluk

Dişlerim görünüyor

Dudaklarım sımsıkı kapalı

Sözcükleri tüketmiş artık

En korkuncu gözlerim

İki kapkara boşluk

Geceden daha derin

 

Kadın: Fırtına ne zaman dindi? Fark etmemişim.

Gece ne kadar karanlıkmış deniz

 

Aynadaki kadın: Birazdan ay doğar

Yakamozlar oynaşır yüzeyde

Görmesek de

Hep böyle oldu

Hep böyle olacak

 

Artık ruhunu dinlendir

 

ERRATUM (Sep.15, 2019)

Every individual in this world, with no exception, is all alone. They may have either a big loving family or a bunch of good old fellows, yet they are eventually alone. It is difficult to carry the blend of void and anxiety it creates. It weighs us down. We try to ease this load by getting together with our lover and friends just to be able to breathe for a while. I do not believe that the biggest anxiety of the human kind is ”existence” Mr. Sartre. No offense, please. The biggest anxiety is awareness of loneliness in the vast universe. Once you notice this fact you can not get rid of it. There is no cure, but temporary remedies.

Human beings are weird. They believe they are ”unique”. This is indeed the truth. There is no single person exactly the same as you are in the world. I am sure you know I do not mean the outer appearance. Uniqueness is the result of the specific fusion of our experiences. There is no one else with exactly the same life experiences as you do. However, none of the components that moulded into you is unique. They are common in the mankind, yet the way they blend is unique.

Literature enables us to become aware of the vast array of elements common in all humans. It helps us to see we are not alone in the universe, that there are others who perceive, think and behave just like we do no matter how absurd or marginal it could be. This awareness eases our biggest anxiety and makes the life a bit more tolerable.

I used to think I was writing in order to breathe. That is not the whole truth. I write – or, should continue to write, I must say – for others to breathe as well.

”Kırmızı Pelerinli Kent”ten Bazı Alıntılar (Aslı Erdoğan)

Gövdenin ağırlığını taşıyamayacak bir çift kanat uğruna köklerini kesenler…

***

Onca çaba, özveri, çırpınış ve bunalımın sonucunda ortaya çıkan, hiç de umduğu gibi bir köprü, ondan dışarıya, dış dünyaya ulaşan bir köprü değildir. Yaşam, bütün kayıtsızlığı ve alaycılığıyla akıp giderken o yalnızca, gerçeğin korkunç çölünde kişisel bir gözlem kulesi yapmıştır. Çatlak tahtalarından rüzgarlar dolan, sallantılı, uğultulu bir kule… Sonuçta, eline kalem alan herkes şu soruyla fazlasıyla uğraşmak zorundadır: Gerçeğin ne kadarına DAYANABİLİRİM?

***

Günbatımı… Yaşamın bütün görkemi ve sefaletiyle gurup rengine büründüğü saat… Tropiklerde bir son, bir bitiş gibi yaşanmaz, asla hüzün uyandırmazdı. Coşkulu bir senfoninin ilk notaları gibiydi daha çok; eskimiş, köhnemiş, tüketilmiş bir düşü yeniden, baştan yaratıyordu. Saf ışıktan dokunmuş, incecik bir ağ atılmıştı göğün üzerine, bir tapınağın yarı-saydam perdesi gibi;altın ve erguvan renkli parıltılarla yanıp sönüyordu bulutlar. Kundağındaki geceyi taşıyan kocaman, karanlık kuş, uçları alev almış kanatlarını yavaşça açıyordu. Durgun, saf, berrak, ölümsüz gökyüzü…

***

Kaosun denklemi çok basit aslında. Yaşam = yaşam. Ölüm = ölüm. Oysa hepimiz kendi denklemimizi kurmanın ve dünyayı ona eşdeğer kılmanın peşindeyiz. ne aymazlık!
Senin içindekini barındıracak derinlikte hiç bir şey yoktur gerçek dünyada; ama sen de, yaşamın, ölümün ve bütün düşlerinle, gerçeğin korkunç sonsuzluğunda, oylumsuz bir noktadan daha büyük değilsin.

***

Büyük Sır orada, o kör noktada işte: Yaşam iki göz kırpması arasında görülen bir düştür. Yalnızca bir düş..

Amerika Dersleri’nden Bazı Alıntılar (Italo Calvino)

”Il faut être léger comme l’oiseau, et non comme la plume” (Paul Valery)
”Kuş gibi hafif olmalı, tüy gibi değil.”

***

Nasıl hüzün ağırlığını yitirmiş üzüntü ise, mizah da aynı şekilde, ağırlığını yitirmiş gülmecedir.

***

Söz, boşluğun üzerine atılan dayanıksız bir kurtuluş köprüsü gibi, görünür izi görünmez şeye, eksik olan şeye, arzulanan ya da korkulan şeye bağlar.

***

Yazmaya başladığımız andan bir önceki ana kadar, dünya – her birimiz için dünyayı oluşturan şey, yani bir bilgiler, deneyimler,değerler toplamı – vardır karşımızda, bir bütün halindeki, öncesiz ve sonrasız dünya, bireysel anı olarak ve örtük gizilgüç olarak dünya. Ve biz,bu dünyadan bir söylem, bir öykü, bir duygu çıkarmak isteriz; ya da belki de, daha kesin olarak söylemek gerekirse, bu dünyada kendimizi konumlandırmamıza olanak sağlayacak bir işlemi gerçekleştirmek isteriz. Bütün diller emrimizdedir: edebiyatın geliştirdiği diller, uygarlıkların ve bireylerin değişik çağlarda ve ülkelerde kendilerini dile getirdikleri üsluplar; aynı zamanda çok farklı disiplinlerin geliştirdiği, son derece farklı biçimlere ulaşma amacını taşıyan diller. Ve biz, onların içinden, söylemek istediğimize uygun dili, söylemek istediğimiz şeyin ta kendisi OLAN dili çekip çıkarmak isteriz.

***

Öykü nasıl biterse bitsin, öykünün bitmiş sayılabileceğine karar verdiğimiz an hangisi olursa olsun, anlatma eyleminin o noktaya doğru gitmediğini, önemli olanın başka bir yerde olduğunu, daha önce olup bitenler olduğunu anımsarız. Anlatılabilir olanın sürekliliğinden çekip çıkarılmış, o yalıtılmış olaylar parçasının edindiği anlam olduğunu.

***

THE ANNIVERSARY (Tuesday, July 16, 2013)

It’s been a long time since I’ve written an article or such. Thus, it is going to be difficult to construct this piece, be it one paragraph or more; I’ve no idea about that. Actually, poetry and proses mingle well, and the distinction is further blurred if you prefer unrhymed and unmetered style in the former. Well, I must admit I don’t care what I’m writing any more. I feel restrained and suffocated when I try to fit in a category. These categories are synthetic, then why should I keep my mind busy with it? I am indeed allergic to classifications and categorizations. The only difference for me is that I can be more obscure in poetry, and the reader can enjoy the sweet and bitter aspect this freedom as much as he wishes. In the beginning, I was totally amazed to realize that the same words, the same lines carry very different meanings and associate with a wide spectrum of feelings for the readers. I thought I wrote bad and failed in creating the atmosphere I intended. What a shame! I’ve always been proud of my expressive capability, not verbally but in written form. That was the reflection of my character, thoughts elaborately handled, analyzed, objective conclusions derived and neatly placed in small drawers of my gallery. Not a single grain of dust allowed!

My disappointment did not last long. As I checked comments to the poems of other writers, I saw that it was not my fault, or anybody’s fault. We comprehend the stimuli from outside world within a framework unique to each one of us. This frame is formed by past experiences – what happened, how we reacted and what imprint it left on the Self. This is dynamic, ever-changing, even from moment to moment like a thick but fluid amorphous material. We have openings to the outer life in layers with a very complicated structure. Picture a dynamic labyrinth from the center to the outer shell. The walls slide, rise and fall, each time producing a different route to the same spot from the same point of start, that is, the Self.

Relieved with this understanding, I wrote only poems after a few days of proses. I wrote them and uploaded to my blog every day. Yes, I kept the promise I gave to myself: I WROTE DAILY FOR 365 DAYS, A WHOLE YEAR! Now I smile with contentment and victory. I know I’m very stubborn. Once I decide on something, nothing can stop me. I proceed to the goal like a missile. I may zigzag, pause to breathe, but never stop. That character trait is both good and bad. Good in the sense that I can concentrate and reach my goals with steady work, but bad that may be a burden on my shoulders and loss of taste in Life. Now that I’m familiar with Buddhism, the latter no longer poses a threat. I enjoy it; I enjoy even the most colorless duty if I am ‘’there and then’’. I used to describe my continuous transformation like molding a statue. What I imagined was an artist with a chisel in hand, carving a block of marble or granite. Now I have a different image. The artist gives form to the statue with plaster. Gentle touches with skillful fingers. This understanding is a direct product of studying Buddhism.

Anyway, here I am, proud of accomplishing a task. Now what will follow? A pause to listen to the Silence? Investing my energy in another novel? Continue poetry? I don’t have answers. The only thing I can say is, I will write as long as I breathe, in order to breathe.

THANK YOU

Dear ‘’apolitical’’ youth,

Your stand crashed on my aching bones, blurry eyes, my tired heart and numb brain like a wave. Your optimism, sense of humor, your expression devoid of ‘’Hate’’ and your naturalness did so good to me! You are not ‘’apolitical’’, on the contrary, you are the most beautiful representatives of ‘’postmodern politicism’’. Unfortunately, although we, the veteran socialists and communists, have always been and are for the ‘’New’’ and for freedom, we have not broken the patterns of the ‘’Old’’ completely. Thus we have carried the old way expression on ourselves like a crust. Thank you for cracking this crust! We will do the rest and be born again into this ‘’New World’’, fragile, free and as it is like a butterfly.

Of course, it may take some time to remove the crusts. Some wounds are still bleeding under them, the wounds inflicted in an era you were not born, but may have an idea from some TV series and movies, the wounds your parents never talked about because they hurt as if they occurred only yesterday. There are some sparks in the bottom of our hearts kept alive with ‘’Anger’’. Because that was what we had to hold on and survive in the fires. ‘’Anger’’ kept some of us alive. It will take some time, I know. However, we did not see a sign of ‘’Hate’’ in your bright faces while you got hurt by tear gas, water, kicks and batons. You placed a smile on my lips. Bravo for that! I will do the rest, we will…

Thank you…

TEŞEKKÜRLER

Sevgili ‘’apolitik’’ gençler,

Ağrıyan kemiklerime, bulanık gözlerime, yorgun yüreğime, uyuşmuş zihnime sert bir dalga gibi çarptı duruşunuz. İyimserliğiniz, mizah gücünüz, nefretsiz söyleminiz, doğallığınız öyle iyi geldi! Siz ‘’apolitik’’ filan değilsiniz, ‘’postmodern politikliğin’’ en güzel temsilcilerisiniz. Ne yazık ki biz ‘’eski tüfekler’’ hep yeniden ve yenilikten, özgürlükten yana olmakla birlikte ‘’Eski’’nin kalıplarını tam kıramamışız, eski söylemleri fark etmesek de üzerimizde taşımısız bir kabuk gibi. Bu kabuğu kırdığınız için teşekkürler! Gerisini biz yaparız ve yeniden doğarız bu ‘’Yeni Dünya’’ya, bir kelebek kadar narin, bir kelebek kadar kendince ve ‘’özgür’’…

Elbette kabukların kaldırılması biraz zaman alabilir, bazılarının altında hala kanayan yaralar var, sizlerin daha doğmadığı, TV dizilerinde, filmlerde kısmen izlediği dönemlerden kalan. Az da olsa hala ‘’öfke’’ ile beslenen kıvılcımlar var yüreklerimizin derinliklerinde, çünkü biz böyle gördük, yangınlarda kavrula kavrula sağkalabilmenin yollarını el yordamıyla böyle bulduk. ‘’Öfke’’ yaşamla bağımızı canlı tuttu kimimizde. Zaman alacak, bunu biliyorum. Ama bunca kaos içinde gaz ve su yerken, yaralanıp berelenirken ‘’Nefret’’i görmedik aydınlık yüzlerinizde. Dudağıma bu gülümsemeyi kondurdunuz ya, helal olsun! Gerisini ben hallederim, biz hallederiz…

Teşekkürler…

Ömrüm Uzun,

6 Haziran 2013 Perşembe

LOVE, ATTACHMENT, NON-ATTACHMENT: CHALLENGE NO.5 (Wednesday, August 8, 2012)

Love and Attachment… A tricky topic for today.

Is love possible without attachment? This question kept me pretty busy last year. How can you love and not be attached to that one or thing?

I am well aware of the notion of ‘’non-attachment in Buddhism. But I had a tough time in understanding how one can love while not attached. A seemingly paradoxical statement for me, a real puzzle I needed to solve to overcome my problem of ‘’clinging’’ to those I love and turning their lives into misery with my focused but suffocating love. Some of you may recognize a familiar pattern here. This issue is more common with women. There are several reasons why one adopts such an attitude, rooted deeply in childhood and relations with parents, the social status of woman in the contemporary world, in relationships, the difference between a woman’s ‘’brain’’ and a man’s, the latter probably rooted not in childhood but archaic collective conscience. Whatever the reason is, we, women are more prone to get ‘’attached’’ in relationships while the men’s objects of attachment are more diverse and solid.

Attachment is the very reason to suffer. Nothing remains the same. Your beautiful house may be destroyed in one night with fire or earthquake; your fancy sports car may crash because of a lousy driver or a stray dog running across the road; your company, your pride may collapse, a real threat especially nowadays; your lovely pet will sooner or later die; your beloved partner may dump you for a younger and more fit chick; your dearest child may die in an accident or after suffering from an incurable cancer. There are ‘’less traumatic’’ scenarios, too; for instance, the gorgeous red rose in your garden pales and withers. Anything can happen to anyone. None of us is immune to such calamity.

And we suffer. We suffer because we lost what or who we loved. Of course, it’s not the loss of our ‘’love ‘’ for them. We still love them as we did yesterday. We suffer because we have lost the ‘’object’’ of our love. We feel as if we are cut off from our source of happiness all of a sudden. There is truth in that: We, ourselves, make these ‘’objects’’ our source of happiness.

Our house, our car, our business, our family, our roses nurture us. We, human beings, are social creatures. We need to interact with our environment to survive and function both physically and spiritually. Bread, meat and vegetables feed our bodies, while the rest feed our soul. Love is the greatest food for our minds. Thus, it is not surprising we all look for love since we are born until our last breath. If you are a member of a forum or a social media, just scroll down the posts of other members: love, love, love… Love is light, love is divine, love is the god, love is the answer, love is us, or we are love, etc. When you are heartbroken, these posts probably sound silly, even annoying to you. Love everywhere! Bullshit! Love sucks!

Losing the object of love is the cause of pain. Why? Do you need the presence of that particular person or thing to go on loving? Of course not! You still love your deceased parents, husband, or wife. It is cessation of the satisfaction you get from interacting with them. Turning the key and stepping inside your house after a hard day’s work, driving leisurely, or speeding, on a road with little or no traffic while listening to your favorite songs in your car, petting your cat or dog, smelling and feeling the velvety touch of the rose… These are what make you happy. You can add to this list what you share with your partner, children and friends. A long, very long list it would be. And then, one day, they’re gone! Gone in a blink of an eye!

It is this interaction that creates ‘’attachment’’. Because you feel happy, you get attached. A natural cause-effect relationship. In case of romantic love, add the ecstasy and the realm of magic; it is more than attachment. It becomes clinging, even addiction. Romantic love is the most powerful addictive ‘’substance’’, legal and encouraged!

But we know love doesn’t need to co-exist with attachment as in the case of our deceased beloved ones. We don’t expect anything from them, we can’t; they are gone. They can’t talk to us, they can’t look into our eyes, they can’t hold our hands, they can’t give us a hug, yet we love them. When we think of them, we smile and feel their warmth. We feel happy. We realize the loss of the beloved does not mark the end of love and happiness we once had while we were together.

Thus, a healthy-type – a more realistic you may call – of love is possible. It has nothing to do with attachment, even with the object. Love comes from the inside, and is reflected on that particular object. You give it fully and enjoy this feeling. It is your love that makes the ‘’loved’’ desirable and a source of happiness for you, not him or her, or it. Once you realize this truth such discussions as ‘’love should be mutual’’, ‘’you should get what you give’’ lose their meaning. Besides, every living being loves in their own way. You give your love to your partner in your unique way distilled by the complex past experiences that have molded you into the ‘’present you’’, so does he or does she, so does my cat Taffy and my roses in the balcony…

THE SHOPPING MALLS (Sunday, August 5, 2012)

The shopping malls are one of the few places to kill time in my city during summer. Air-conditioned, a roof above to cut the burning sun add to the alurement of a diversity of stores in one place, comfort in parking, a huge food-court and movies. They were not popular 15 to 20 years ago. I used to browse the windows of small stores in the streets. Some of them moved to the malls and turned into a chain of stores or closed down unable to compete with the bigger companies. I am not for or against the malls. But it is a truth that they had a tremendous effect on our way of living, thus, our values, and thoughts.

The introduction of shopping malls and their subsequent unpreventable expansion marked a milestone in the social transformation. We became an integral part of the ‘’global village’’ set by the pioneers of contemporary capitalism. We melted in the same pot and merged, homogenized for the sake of ‘’harmony’’ and ‘’adaptation’’ with the ‘’leading developed’’ world countries.

There is not much difference between a shopping mall here and in the US or another country. Of course, the physical structure as well as the concept of a particular mall varies; there are local companies in addition to the international chains, but the basic organization is a copycat: stores specialized in men’s or women’s clothing, shoes and bags, cosmetics, electronic household appliances, sports items, mobile phone services, kids, and toy shops, a food court and movie saloons. Added to this list are a big food market, a coiffeur saloon, a bookstore, and a dry-clenaner’s. I bet you would feel ‘’at home’’ if you go shopping in one of our malls. The same holds true for our people, too. They are more confident while browsing the racks and trying on, or paying at the cashier. They talk more loudly among themselves and not afraid at all to make a ‘’mistake’’ that will render them to the contemptuous looks of the salespeople, or their own archaic and deep-rooted suffering from ‘’inferiority’’. After all, the only issue now is language barrier, not alienation from this ‘’culture’’.

I have been to many shopping malls all over the world and made enough observations to notice the specific stamp of the people in that country. Yes, the basic organization and general behavioral pattern of visitors are very similar. However, you can notice the ‘’innate’’ color and smell of that particular population when you spend some time there. Although global capitalism molds them into one stereotype harshly chopping off the ‘’unnecessary’’ branches, a few buds shrink and hide themselves close to the trunk, evident only to careful eyes.

Sale-time now. Almost all the stores have big and colorful writings on the display windows: ‘’Sale! Sale! Sale!’’ ‘’The biggest sale of summer 2012’’. ‘’Prices down to 50%!’’. ‘’Buy one, get the second half-price, ‘’or ‘’buy one, get the second free’’. ‘’We are emptying the shelves!’’ The salespeople sweat buckets to fold, hang or place the items plundered by the customers, but in vain; the store looks as a battlefield soon after its opening. Top tanks, shorts and pants lie in piles as casualties; nevertheless, no mournful song is heard from those left behind. That’s their destiny carved deep in their foreheads during manufacture; resistance is futile. Some will be lucky to be picked by an enthusiastic teenager or a tired mother of four while the remaining corpses wait for the crane to lift and dump them into big parcels to be transferred to the unknown.

A store does not get into this hassle. A big store with three floors spread on hundreds of acres of land. They don’t go on sale to empty the stocks. Actually, they run short most of the time. Some of the customers pay infrequent visits whereas the others are very loyal, but each one willing to pay how much a particular item costs. One clarification though: Payment is not necessarily with money or credit card. You can trade what you have. The company has a stable customer policy that has not changed at all since they have been in business. The price of items is reduced for loyal buyers. The more they recommend the company to their families and friends, the less they pay. In any case, one customer brings in several ones, thus the business is ever-expanding and unaffected in the ups and downs of world economics. The policy of ‘’one skilled salesperson for each client’’ has also had a major impact on the privileged position of the company. The salesperson seldom changes once the customer is satisfied with the service. Hence, visit to the store alone is a joyous event as if being in a previous resort place you fell in love in your vacation. A very refined concept in trade business, indeed.

I can see some of you raise eyebrows. A few mumble: ‘’Where is this department store? I know nothing of this kind here!’’ You do, dear Reader, you do. It is an international chain store present even in the smallest populated locations worldwide. You pass by it every day. I am sure you have glimpsed through the half-open door – gigantic and carved in brass ornamented with golden figures for some, plain wooden yet inviting for the others. Some of you have actually been there once whereas some still pay regular visits to catch up with the latest trends. You are familiar with it, come on!

Let me name and describe the floors to give you a hint:

Floor 0: Welcoming floor, a cozy atmosphere to relax and refresh with drinks at the pool bar in summer or by the fireplace in winter.

Floor 1: Body. Shelves populated with body parts: Hair – long blonde, short curly, black, auburn, released over the shoulders freely or gathered tightly at the back, any kind, any color, any design…  Eyes, eyebrows, eyelashes, nose, cheeks, lips teeth, face contour, neck, breasts, back, waist, arms and legs, fingernails… Countless items to make trendy combinations.

Floor 2: Soul. Shelves populated with souls or soul parts: Arrogant, not-so-arrogant but charismatic, affectionate, affectionate-looking, very generous, generous, not generous, loving, serious, judging harshly, judging objectively, judging kindly, good only to oneself, good to others, good to both, bad only to oneself, bad to others, bad to both…. Countless items to make endless combinations.

Have you really not seen that store before? Have you not been there? What did you pay for your first item? Or what did you trade for it? For the second? The third?…

Post Navigation